


I'll Be Haunting You

by evaagna



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 08:12:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12453237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaagna/pseuds/evaagna
Summary: It takes Bodhi a long time to realize that he's dead.





	I'll Be Haunting You

**Author's Note:**

> For the SniperPilotHalloween2017 Day 4 prompt: Ghosts ~~and Gore~~

It takes Bodhi a long time to realize that he’s dead.

At least, he thinks it’s a long time. That’s what it feels like, especially given the enormity of the revelation. 

It starts when he wakes up. At first he’s disoriented, unsure where he is or how he got there. He sits bolt upright and is met with the sensation of weightlessness, like the motion sent him floating up towards the ceiling. But, well, that just doesn’t make sense; he chalks it up to his confusion. He must be dizzy or something. He blinks, taking in his surrounding, and slowly realizes that he’s in a hallway in the base on Yavin IV. Strange. How did he get here? He--

Bodhi tries to think back. He remembers that they were going to Scarif. He flew them there. No, they were _on_ Scarif and-- And he needed to do something. Open the comm link. To get past the shield. Yes. _Yes_.

He reaches a hand up to run his fingers through his hair, but stops. It’s pulled back neatly; more neatly than he ever remembers managing. Maybe his _mother_ could have managed that, once upon a time, forcing his restless eight year-old self to sit still for five whole minutes, but it’s been a long time since then. When he glances down, his imperial flight suit is similarly immaculate.

He takes a deep breath and gets to his feet. It feels… _odd_ , though he can’t immediately place the sensation. His skin is tingly and cold, almost numb, and there’s an aching in his chest that leaves him feeling like he’s been tugged halfway across the galaxy. A voice rings in his ears - desperate, insistent - repeating the same thing over and over again - _Bodhi? Bodhi, can you hear me?_ It’s a hiss and it crackles around the edges, almost like it’s coming over a comm. 

It’s only a memory, he knows, but it plays on repeat like it’s something to decode. _Bodhi? Bodhi?_ the voice calls. It draws him down the hallway, though he doesn’t know where it leads. He passes a few people, though none of them seem to notice him. But he’s used to that, so it doesn’t raise any personal alarms. 

He wanders like this for some time, drifting down hallways, through rooms, and past people. He doesn’t notice how the time passes - how one hour bleeds into the next, or how one shift of Rebels is replaced by another. Sometimes, when the call subsides enough to let him, he finds an out-of-the-way alcove and sits down. He holds his head in his hands and feels empty and blank.

***

A day passes like this, then a night, then another and another. It could have been a week or a few hours, though; he wouldn’t know the difference. It doesn’t feel like that long, is the thing. It doesn’t occur to him as strange. But not a single person has spoken to him, or even seemed to notice him, in that time. That leaves him feeling anxious and starved for attention.

So, the next time he sees someone coming towards him down the corridor, he attempts to stop them, to ask something, anything. It’s two pilots, decked out in their standard orange flight suits. They’re chatting amicably, joking about something or other. By the sound of it, they’re just headed to the hangar to go out on patrol.

Bodhi stops right in the middle of their path, makes to say, _Excuse me,_ but no sound come out. He pauses. Tries again. Grows alarmed. He can’t speak, and they’re not stopping. He’s standing right in front of them, but they’re not making any indication that they even notice that he’s there. 

He tries to duck to the side at the last moment, but it’s too late. One of the men walks straight into him-- Or-- A sudden nausea swells in him. The man doesn’t collide with him; he-- Somehow he walks right _through_ him. He doesn’t know how else to describe what just happened. It feels like passing through a wall of warm water. Or maybe like warm water passing through him. The sensation is somehow sickening. He feels bile rising in his throat. He’s going to be sick-- But nothing comes up.

He just-- How-- _What?_

The Rebel pilot shutters as it happens and stops short. “What the--” he starts, whipping around. His alarmed gaze goes right past Bodhi as if he wasn’t there at all. “Did you just feel that?” he demands of his friend. 

But the other man just looks at him like he’s crazy. “Feel what?”

“ _That_ ,” the pilot insists, gesturing vaguely, “That-- I dunno, it was like a chill. You didn’t feel it?”

The other scoffs. “You’re imagining things,” He rolls his eyes and gives his friend a good whack on the shoulder. “Come on,”

Bodhi stares after them, jaw dropped in horror. What just happened? 

He looks down at himself, looks up at the pilots already moving away down the hall, looks back down at his hands. Panic flares, sharp and suffocating, in his chest. He sinks to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway, hands shaking before his eyes.

Someone just walked _through_ him. That just doesn’t happen; that’s not possible. 

In a sudden flash he remembers a grenade landing mere feet away from him. He remembers freezing, not having time to react. He--

He’s dead. He _died_. He, Bodhi Rook, died on Scarif. 

He can’t process the information. How can he be dead? What is this, then? 

His face twists into a deep frown. He’s… a ghost?

*** 

It’s a lot to take in, this sudden revelation of death, but it’s not like Bodhi has a choice. He’s dead. He can’t do anything about it. So over the next few days - or something like that, he understands now why he doesn’t feel the pressing weight of time on him anymore - he begins to get used to the idea.

Even growing up in NiJedha, he’d never personally been much for religion. He never particularly thought about what the afterlife might involve, or if there even was an afterlife, but he certainly had never expected to spend death wandering the halls of the Rebel base. In fact, he doesn’t know why he’s here or exactly how he got back to the base in the first place.

He quickly notes that he doesn’t see any other ghosts around. He assumes that he would be able to see them, if there were, even though the living clearly can’t. He’s not sure if this is a good thing or not. He wonders if it means the rest of his teammates survived, but it could just as likely be because he’s the only one stuck here, specifically. He really doesn’t know how this whole ghost thing is supposed to work. 

If he’s stuck here among the living, that’s supposed to mean that he has unfinished business or something, right? Something is tying him here. But he doesn’t know what his unfinished business could be. He brought the message, he set up the link to get the data off Scarif; what else does he need to finish?

The only clue he has is the insistent memory of a voice over the comm. _Bodhi? Bodhi, can you hear me?_ It’s going to drive him crazy, if it continues like this. It’s calling him to follow, near constantly, but not leading him anywhere.

Now that he knows what’s happening, at least, when the draw grows too strong and he’s forced to drift through the halls, he has more awareness. As he goes, he starts testing himself, seeing what being a ghost entails. He still can’t talk and it’s more evident than ever that no one can see him, but he finds that he can phase right through solid objects at will. It feels super weird when he does it, but at least it’s better than the horrible sensation of passing through a person. He’s actively avoided letting anyone walk through him since that first time.

His favorite discovery, though, is that he doesn’t actually have to walk at all; he can simply float along. In retrospect, he supposes that must be the weightless sensation that he woke up to. It would be kind of fun, really, if it weren’t for the fact that he had to die to be able to do it.

So Bodhi floats along, humming to himself as he follows the voice. _Bodhi? Bodhi?_ it calls, tugging at his chest. He passes the mess hall, taking a moment to peak in, and then he passes a few Rebels, carefully skirting up and to the side to avoid them. On and on until he gets bored of it.

But then he passes another door and the voice goes silent. He backtracks. _This is it_ , some part of him whispers. This is what he’s been searching for. He’s passed this door countless times already, so he doesn’t know what changed, but he’s never been so certain about anything. 

He takes a deep breath and phases through the door. It tickles and he shivers, but it’s over quickly. The room that he ends up in is brightly lit and enormous. It’s filled with beeping machines, specialized instruments, and a row of beds and monitors. Droids and people in white coats hurry about their individual tasks. In the back, a series of partitions separate the space. 

It’s the medical wing, he realizes.

He heads toward the back area, flitting past the doctors, and quickly finds what he’s looking for.

 _Cassian_. 

Cassian is lying in one of the beds tucked away behind curtains for privacy. He looks terrible, honestly, and is clearly seriously injured and only just beginning the slow process of healing. They’d had to shave his head to treat one injury, apparently, and his entire right leg is held immobile in a cast. But, from the steady beeps coming from the monitor beside him, he’s alive, if not well. 

Bodhi feels his heart leap in his chest at the sight of him. Disproportionate relief and genuine joy wash through him. If any of them deserved to make it through, it’s Cassian, he thinks. As he moves closer, he realizes that the captain is awake, slowly blinking up at the ceiling. 

There’s a chair pulled up close on one side of the bed, so Bodhi hovers by it for a moment before sitting down. Cassian turns his head and looks straight at him. His breath catches in his throat for an instant, but, no. Cassian can’t be looking at him; he’s looking through him. Of course. Bodhi feels himself deflate. Of course Cassian doesn’t know he’s here. 

His eyes flutter closed again, but Bodhi stays by his side. He reaches out and tries to take Cassian’s hand in his own, but instead he’s only met with the sticky, warm feeling of living flesh phasing through cold apparition. It doesn’t feel quite so bad this time.

***

A while after Cassian loses consciousness again, Jyn appear. She pulls back the curtain and steps into the little space with a deep frown. Bodhi’s eyes go wide when he sees her. She walks with a limp, her arm is in a sling, and there’s a bandage across her forehead large enough that it makes Bodhi wince just thinking about what must be underneath. But Jyn is alive.

She’s alive and she’s awake and she’s picking up what’s left of her life.

Bodhi wants to rejoice; he grins and springs up out of the chair, doing a little loop through the air in celebration. 

Jyn takes the seat and he wonders if she’s the one who put it there. Maybe Cassian has other visitors, too, but somehow he doubts many. No, he’s certain that Jyn is the one who silently waits here, keeping the captain company. Bodhi hopes that she’ll take Cassian’s hand in the way he couldn’t, if only to offer some physical comfort that will likely go unnoticed. But she doesn’t. Instead she simply sits, elbows on knees and chin on hands, staring at the man, face pensive and deeply sad. 

He tries to offer her some support, whisper something encouraging to her or put an arm around her shoulder. But his attempts only float past her, whisping out the loose strands of hair by her temple like a soft, cold breeze that makes her shiver.

She stays for an amount of time that Bodhi doesn’t remember how to count and then leaves. 

***

Bodhi takes to sitting by Cassian’s bed for longer and longer periods. It’s not like he has a whole lot else to do. Though, occasionally, he drifts off to check on Jyn or to see what is happening around base - Cassian will want an update when he wakes up, after all. 

He tries touching his hand a few more times - or once, his cheek - but doesn’t feel any improvement. He’s convinced that he should be able to, reasoning that since he can touch other solid objects when he wants, the same principle should work with people. 

It’s while he’s lost in thought trying to solve this predicament that Cassian wakes up for the second time. 

“Bodhi?”

His voice comes out so quiet that Bodhi almost misses it. His eyes snap up to Cassian’s face instantly. He’s met with brown eyes looking back at him. It’s a warm stare, still foggy from sleep and medication, but intense all the same. It makes Bodhi’s insides feel fuzzy for reasons he can’t quite explain. 

But, no. Cassian can’t see him. There’s no way Cassian can see him. That look isn’t directed at him; it’s-- Bodhi glances over his shoulder but sees nothing but the bland grey curtain. His brow furrows. He looks at Cassian. Then back at the curtain. 

“Bodhi,” Cassian repeats, this time louder. 

Bodhi flounders for a moment in disbelief, then points a finger to his own chest and frowns. _Me?_

“Yes, you,” There’s a touch of amusement in his tone, though it sounds tired and worn from disuse. “Who else would I be talking to?”

Cassian can see him? Cassian can see him. Cassian is awake and talking to him and can _see_ him! Bodhi doesn’t speak; he’s not sure if he can. When he tries to open his mouth and get the words out, it feels papery and quiet, like a breeze through dry grass. But there is so much he wants to say. 

One of the machines by Cassian’s side beeps loudly. He groans, and within a moment, two med-droids are bustling in through the curtain with a doctor right behind. Bodhi steps back to let them do whatever they need to. He’s eager to stay close, but he doesn’t want to interfere with or jeopardize the healing process. Cassian’s eyes follow him. He makes to say something else, but Bodhi grins, putting a finger to his lips in a signal to keep quiet, and backs out of the room, straight through the wall. 

_Cassian is awake!_ fills his mind. He needs to tell Jyn! She needs to come see him, this time before he loses consciousness again! He’s not entirely certain how to get this message to her, but he darts off to find her anyway.

***

Fortunately, by the time he finds her, someone else has already made the effort to comm her. Bodhi peaks into the room just in time to see her drop everything and all but sprint past him toward medical. He’s all too happy to follow.

There, he makes a concerted effort not to eavesdrop. He purposefully stays out of view and gives them privacy when Jyn goes in. That is, until he hears his own name. It’s in Cassian’s voice.

“Bodhi,” he’s saying, “Where’s Bodhi?” 

Bodhi can hear the frown in Jyn’s response. She sucks in a deep breath. “Cassian, I--” she tries, struggling to get the words out, starting and restarting a few times. “I’m sorry, but Bodhi didn’t make it; no one else did,”

There’s silence for a long moment, so Bodhi chances a glance in. “But--” Cassian’s eyes dart to the spot where he had disappeared earlier. A series of expressions play across Cassian’s face. Some move in slow motion, and others disappear as soon as they appear. But after only the span of a moment, he schools his expression into something carefully blank and unreadable. It’s a look that they have both seen on him before. “Okay,” is all he says.

“I’m sorry, Cassian,” Jyn says, to which Cassian can only offer a sad smile. 

They converse quietly for a little longer, though it’s clear that sorrow hangs in the air between them.

***

Bodhi waits until Jyn is gone to go in.

Cassian doesn’t notice him at first, but when he does, it’s like he was expecting him. “Bodhi,” he breathes. He sounds half relieved, half confused. 

Bodhi feels guilty for causing those emotions.

But then Cassian’s face contorts into something painful and lost. “Am I imagining things?”

Bodhi shakes his head and quickly moves across the room to his side. _No_ he tries to say, _No, I’m here; you’re not--_

But it doesn’t do anything to alleviate the distress in Cassian’s eyes. “Jyn just told me you--” He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Bodhi doesn’t meet his eyes and nods. “Then how-- what--” He pauses, collects himself, and then tries again. “Then you’re, what? A...ghost?”

 _Yes_ Bodhi thinks, but all he manages is a shrug. 

“Oh Bodhi,” Cassian looks at him like he’s lost something precious and he doesn’t understand. He holds his gaze for another long moment and then nods. “Okay.” Cassian repeats, but this time he doesn’t sound so closed off. Instead, he sounds resigned - deeply grieved, but accepting. 

Bodhi smiles.

***

“So, no one else can see you?” Cassian asks. He’s healing well and spending more and more time awake each day. The doctor has even suggested that he might be released sooner than expected.

Bodhi shakes his head. No, no one else can see him. Maybe that’s why he’s so drawn to hanging around here by Cassian’s side. Or maybe it’s because being in his company somehow lessens the terrible ache that he’s felt since he first awoke as a ghost.

“And you can’t speak?”

 _Nope,_ he mouths, popping the “p.”

It earns him a chuckle. “Then how come I can see you?”

He shrugs. Cassian is taking the whole ghost thing remarkably well, and Bodhi is grateful for it. There’s a lingering sadness in his eyes whenever he looks at Bodhi and he pointedly makes no mention of him when Jyn stops by, but he quickly covers it up with a quick little smile or one half of a conversation. It’s weird. In life, Bodhi would happily, if somewhat unintentionally, chat someone’s ear off. But now it’s up to Cassian to shoulder the majority of their exchanges. Bodhi is just glad for the company.

The fuzzy feeling in his chest is back more often than not, now. He doesn’t know what to do with it, but it leaves him with an increasing desire to touch. If he could only reach out and take Cassian’s hand, squeeze it reassuringly, then maybe the ache would subside. So he tries harder, concentrates more. 

He only attempts the most fleeting touches, though, too afraid of freaking Cassian out with the weird sensation when it ultimately doesn’t work. Cassian definitely notices, but, for the time being, he doesn’t mention it. Sometimes Bodhi thinks that it’s getting better, that it starts to feel less like dissolving and more like real, stable human contact. He doesn’t want to be disappointed, so he tells himself he must be imagining it. 

***

When Cassian is eventually released from the medical wing, Bodhi silently woops in triumph and does his little loops through the air. Cassian laughs as he watches him, and it’s the most genuinely joyful sound that Bodhi has heard from the man, possibly ever. 

He’s not cleared for duty yet, but the relief of getting out of there and finally being able to do _something_ is plain in his every step. Bodhi glides along beside him, grinning. 

He quickly gets back into a routine on the base: first, training to rebuild the strength lost after so long healing, then working strategy and mission control behind the scenes. Eventually, sooner than Bodhi thinks is advisable, he’s scheduled for active missions. Draven is eager to have him back out there, and Cassian himself is equally impatient. Bodhi can’t go with him, though. Well, he finds that he physically could, but he doesn’t want to be a distraction. How would he ever forgive himself if he got Cassian injured again, or worse? 

When he’s off on a mission, Bodhi feels his absence like a physical pain. The ache in his chest is worse than ever; it tugs at him like it wants to fling him across the galaxy. Which, maybe it does, he thinks in alarm. After the third mission, he’s coming to suspect that it’s Cassian himself that’s tying him here in the world of the living, rather than the place or the Rebellion more broadly. The idea nags at him once he’s thought it. Cassian returns, and the ache dulls to a mild throb. Bodhi can’t stop wondering what it might mean. 

Cassian must see the distress in his face because he reaches out and sets his hand atop Bodhi’s. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks quietly, flipping their hands to lace fingers together. 

Bodhi’s eyes go wide, locked on where their fingers are intertwined. All thoughts stop instantly. He looks up at Cassian and then back down to their hands. It doesn’t feel like what it once would have felt like, warm skin against warm skin, but it’s stable, almost solid. It’s real contact, and Bodhi feels it rush through him like water through the desert. When he looks back up to Cassian, he’s positively beaming, grin stretched wide across his face. Cassian’s eyes go soft as he returns a small smile. 

In that moment, Bodhi thinks he feels his heart stop in his chest.

_Oh._

***

Even after that, it’s only small touches that they can manage - holding hands, the brush of fingers against neck or temple, the bump of knee against thigh if they sit too close. Every time they do, though, Bodhi becomes more aware of the revelation sitting like a hard lump in his stomach. 

But it’s enough. It feels like it’s filled something inside him. The ache in his chest is dulled to almost nothing now. With it, the knowledge that his time here is coming to an end looms over him with increasing insistence. He’s strangely okay with it, though. He feels a pang of regret, knowing that it will mean leaving Cassian, but at the same time he knows that he’s not meant to stay here in the living universe indefintely. He’s just glad that Jyn will be here for him.

When he seeks Cassian out, he feels heavier than he has since he woke up. Bodhi makes sure that he’s alone before he floats into sight. The smile that Cassian greets him with doesn’t make it any easier. “Hey, Bodhi? What’s up?”

Of course, Bodhi doesn’t answer. He comes to a stop right in front of the captain, mere inches between them, and pauses. Cassian’s brow creases in concern, but before he can ask, Bodhi brings up a hand to rest against his jaw. 

He presses his lips to Cassian’s, light brush of cold against warm, and then he pulls away. 

Cassian is left staring at him, lips parting, stunned into stillness.

 _Goodbye, Cassian_ , he thinks, and fades away.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate summary: Bodhi's ghost comes back to haunt Cassian (just to get a kiss?). Unfinished business, right? Something like that.
> 
> I wrote (or started writing) like three or four versions of this. It started out as a Being Human AU and then somewhere took a left turn and turned into this. So that's probably how it ended up super rushed and why I hate how it turned out, but oh well?


End file.
